Don't Always Win
by Bronze Warlock
Summary: Non-Canon: 12 Years Later, Harry and Hermione have an overdue talk.


Apply Normal Disclaimer #534 here.

It was a bar like any other. Smoky, a little on the loud side, and a lot of people trying their best to go home with any one of the other people they could find. Love, lust, and lies, all flavored with vodka and any of a dozen other drinks.

Harry sat a table in the corner, bottled of something mostly untouched in front of him. He knew she was coming here. _She'd_ asked to meet him here. And if there was one thing he remembered, it was her punctuality.

"Hello, Harry."

Spot on the dot, as usual. Harry half-smiled, but didn't look up. "It's good to see some things haven't changed."

Hermione dropped into the seat across from him. She looked a little different from the last time he'd seen her. Her hair was shorter, but still curly, hips a little wider from childbirth. But the eyes were the same, a deep color that he remembered staring into on a number of occasions.

He shrugged. It didn't really matter now, anyway. "So, what brings you by this establishment tonight?"

Hermione looked at him, sadness and anger and memory mixing together in an emotion he couldn't identify. "I think we should talk."

Harry did his best to maintain a neutral expression. "Okay. Does that mean we BOTH get to talk, or is it another case of you get to say whatever you want, and then leave me high and dry again?" His gaze dropped to the bottle in front of him. "Because if that's how this is going to go, I've got better ways to spend my evening."

The annoyance in her eyes flashed briefly, and she huffed a bit. "Ideally, we'll both reach an understanding. We've both danced around each other for years-"

Harry snorted. "Your choice, not mine."

"Don't be an ass, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Mione, the last time I saw you I was happy to see you, and instead of a pleasant meeting, I got accused of something that I didn't do. You've been angry at me for 12 years for something I would never have done to you." He sighed. "I loved you too much to hurt you like that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "So you're telling me that after I left with Oliver, you DIDN'T tell everyone that I was pregnant?"

Harry narrowed his eyes in return. "No, I didn't. When I got your owl, I had just gotten back from a rather intense spiritual journey. I had written to you because I missed my friend, and wanted to try and get her back." He leaned back against the bench, the wall the only thing holding him up. "I'd heard the same rumors, and I spoke to three people, all of us praying that it wasn't true. We knew things were rough with your parents, and we knew it was going to be difficult for you, even if the rumors weren't true. Believe me, I'm glad they weren't, but they started before I knew anything."

Hermione just looked at him, the gaze not wavering. "I don't know if I believe you."

Harry let out a breath. "Believe whatever you like. It won't change the truth." He began to absently pick at the label of the bottle. "I'll admit it: I was an ass, the last few months we were together. I was immature, stupid, and I took you for granted." He paused for a swig from the bottle. "I'm also glad that you and Oliver seem to be happy together."

She smiled, the first one he'd seen in a long time. "We are."

Harry looked up. "I know." He sighed. "So…is there a chance we could be friends again?"

Hermione looked away. "I don't know, Harry." At his sarcastic smile, she sat up straighter. "At this point, it's really been too long, I think. People change, Harry. And maybe it's time you quit dwelling on the past, like you've accused me of doing."

Harry cocked his head. "How long have you been practicing that little speech?"

Her eyes narrowed again. "I mean it, Harry. I jumped to conclusions, fine. But our lives are so far apart, now. Yes, we still have some of the same friends, but when was the last time you saw any of them? I'm in Hogsmeade, you're in London." Her shoulders drooped. "It's ancient history, and isn't that what you wanted?"

He looked at her. "I wanted my friend back, some semblance of how close we used to be."

Her eyes softened. "I know." She sighed. "But it's not really possible, is it? Would you want to change everything we've both accomplished?"

His brow furrowed. "I think you misunderstand. I don't want you back as…whatever you want to call what we were. I want my FRIEND back. I want to be able think of you and not be sad. I want you to think of me and smile, and not be angry. I want us to not pretend the other one doesn't exist, that we could be in the same room, and not be invisible."

She shook her head. "I don't know that we'll ever return to that. All we can really do is remember the good times, and try to block the bad. This is real life, so the Good Guy doesn't always win, Harry."

The confusion was written all over his face. "So I get to be the Good Guy now?"

A lone tear dripped down her cheek. "Aren't we always the Good Guy, in our own minds?" She looked at her watch. "I have to go now."

He nodded. She stood, and walked away, never looking back, as he pondered her words.

"_Aren't we always the Good Guy, in our own minds…"_

He looked out the window, trying to figure out what she meant.

He had a long night ahead of him.


End file.
